Life,

a thing so endlessly unknown,

for we all tend to die.

Love,

a thing overwhelmingly cruel,

for we all seem to cry.

Time,

a thing forever untameable,

for we all lose sight of it.

Hearts,

things far too uncaring,

for we all come to covet.

Peace,

a thing never yet to exist,

for we tend to stay at war.

Death,

a thing to never understand,

any better than we did before.

9-21-89 Written by Gail Brookshire
(by the grace of God)